


When We Were Young

by Thighkyuu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Kuroo Tetsurou - Freeform, Songfic, brief visits from, but the cover, secretly sentimental tsukki is a hill i will die on, self indulgent, sugawara koushi - Freeform - Freeform, when we were young, yamaguchi tadashi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25322491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: I  was listening to the When We Were Young cover by Andy Black and got inspired, I recommend listening to it while you read. Yes this is a songfic and no I don’t take criticism. (I’m kidding. I do take criticism.)Seriously though listen to the song cover. I'm watching you.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei x Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely self-indulgent. And was written at 2am. "~" indicate POV change.

_Everybody loves the things you do,_

Tsukishima Kei never considered himself the sentimental type. In fact, he wasn’t the sentimental type. He just kept going, refusing to get lost in old memories. Volleyball was a little different - he loved the sport with a methodical sort of passion, so when he’d gotten the message that Karasuno was participating in a training camp reunion with Nekoma and Fukurodani, he hadn’t hesitated. Of course he was going to go.But for all his precision when blocking, for all his thinking ahead, he had failed to consider one thing.

You.

You were Nekoma’s former manager; you’d joined up right before the training camp everyone had attended, and learned the ropes there. Everyone loved you, not just the Nekoma team. Who wouldn’t? You were practically perfect. So of course you would be there. Logically, it made sense. But that didn’t stop him from freezing in place the moment he saw you.

Memories flooded him, dancing through his vision. Memories of you. Memories of you both. He’d nearly doubled over with the heaviness of them. Even after all these years, he wasn’t prepared to see you.

“Tch,” he shook his head, adjusted his glasses, and forced himself back into the conversation with Tadashi and Sugawara.

 _How lame of me,_ he thought to himself. It had been years since he saw you, much less spoke to you.

But he couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking at you.

_From the way you talk, to the way you move_

He knew he shouldn’t. He should have moved on from you - he thought he had moved on. And then he saw you and his heart did flips and he fell all over again.

You looked almost the same as you did from before. Electric smile, sparkling eyes. Your body itself seemed to speak for you, moving as you talked to enunciate your point. He watched as Kuroo laughed at something you’d said, and that same old wicked grin spread across your face like it always did when you were about to be a little shit.

God, he missed you.

_Cuz everybody here is watching you, cuz you feel like home; you’re like a dream come true_

You were utterly his type, every bit of you was something he loved. From your physical appearance to your brilliant kind to your fears and flaws. He loved it all without remorse. You were the first person he’d ever found truly stunning - and he wasn’t just referring to your looks. You could’ve looked like anyone, had any motley collection of features and he wouldn’t have cared. Sure, you were gorgeous as is, but that wasn’t what drew him in.

It was your quick wit, your sly grin, your stubborn attitude. He mocked you and you mocked him right back. You were sarcastic and still somehow kind. You had a devilish sense of humor and the perfect amount of sass. He could go on and on about you for hours and never get bored, even now. Sometimes he wondered why it had ended.

_But if by chance you’re here alone, can I have a moment before I go?_

But he knew the answer to that. You had both gone your separate ways in life. Sure, you had parted as friends, but that didn’t really mean much. Neither of you had exactly been willing to sacrifice your dreams to move to where the other person was. That kind of thing causes rifts - like the one that ended your relationship. You had tried distance for a while, but it didn’t work out, and so you both agreed breaking it off was best. But that didn’t stop the longing. The regret.

He took a deep breath, eyes darting over to you. It wouldn’t be too hard to step over and say hi. Just to talk to you again. To see that smile up close for the first time in years, to make you laugh one more time.

After all, he was planning to leave soon, for his own sanity, and he wanted - no, he silently corrected, he needed - to see you one last time.

_Cuz I’ve been by myself all night long_

His body moved of its own accord, weaving in and out of the various people in the room. The closer he got to you, the harder it became to keep up his usual stoic appearance. He found himself wanting nothing more than to sweep you away, take you somewhere far away and live happily ever after. It was distinctly unlike him.

People were raising eyebrows at him - he rarely walked with such purpose - and he had to force himself to slow down. To take a breath. To simply walk normally toward you. He didn’t need questions asked. Not right now.

Finally - _finally_ \- he reaches your little group. Your back is to him, but your body is still animated. You’re telling a story, completely unaware of his presence. He considers turning around, just leaving, but dismisses the idea almost immediately. He needs, well, he isn’t sure what he needs, exactly. But he knows that if he doesn’t at least try, if he doesn’t at least speak to you, he’s going to regret it.

He sighs inwardly, cursing his feelings. Why did he need feelings anyway? They just caused hellish situations that he always ended up trapped in. Feelings got him into this mess, and now feelings were either about to get him out or dig him in deeper. He glances briefly at the ceiling, as if to say “God save me” and steps forward.

_Hoping you’re someone I used to know_

“Y/N.” You turn around, the smile still on your face, and freeze when you see him. Your eyes go wide, your smile slipping slightly in your shock. You weren’t expecting him.

_You look like a movie, you sound like a song_

He couldn’t blame you for not expecting him; he wouldn’t expect himself either. But you simply return to smiling and greet him warmly in that melodic voice of yours that he’d always loved.

“K- Tsukishima! It’s been so long!” He nodded, barely hearing himself respond. You’d almost called him Kei. Surely that didn’t mean anything… right? No, he had to be overthinking things. He had to be.

_My God this reminds me of when we were young_

~

_I was so scared to face my fears_

You were not ready for Tsukishima Kei. Not at all. You weren’t expecting to see him at this reunion, and you definitely weren’t expecting the rush of emotions you felt when you saw him again. Some part of you had hoped he wouldn’t show - had hoped that you wouldn’t see him. So when he tapped on your shoulder, said your name, every little lie you told yourself about being over him crumbled to dust and got danced on by the butterflies in your stomach.

_Nobody told me that you’d be here_

When you’d helped organize this reunion, everyone had come to the general consensus that Tsukishima probably wouldn’t be attending. He wasn’t very sentimental and he avoided large functions at almost all costs. You couldn’t lie - a large part of you had been disappointed. You missed him, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

The other part of you, though, had been relieved. If you didn’t have to see him, you didn’t have to deal with all the unresolved things between the two of you. You would be able to keep thinking you had moved on well enough and pretend you weren’t still in love with him after all this time.

_And I swear that you’d moved overseas; that’s what you said when you left me_

You hadn’t seen him in so long, hadn’t even run into him. You weren’t sure if it was because you were both subconsciously avoiding each other or if your paths had simply never overlapped. Either way, not seeing him again had allowed you the illusion of moving on. The illusion that you didn’t still love him.

In truth, you had always loved him. Almost from the moment you saw him. He was rude, sarcastic, and standoffish. You wouldn’t have it any other way. As you had gotten to know him, you’d discovered that his lack of car was a front he put up. He did care. He cared a lot, in fact. He was sweet, when he wanted to be, and he always did his best to understand. What he didn’t understand, he learned about. And if he still didn’t understand, he did the best he could to help you.

No, you definitely had not been ready when he tapped on your shoulder and said your name.

_You still look like a movie_

When you turned around, greeted him - almost calling him Kei out of habit - you’d had a full stop. He still took your breath away, even after all these years. You watched as his eyes searched your face, the way they always had, feeling back layer after layer and deconstructing your being. You had always felt like he could really see you, and it had been one of your favourite things about him. Others found his cold, unwavering stare unnerving, but to you it was something else to love.

_You still sound like a song_

“It’s been a while,” he says, and you feel yourself nod. There was so much you missed about him, but hearing his voice…. that might be the thing you missed the most. His quiet tones and subtle inflections. The voice that had calmed you down, riled you up, turned you on. The voice that grounded you and made you feel like you were floating at the same time.

The two of you make idle small talk for a while before the conversation picks up, and you get lost in catching up. You pick up almost where you left it, and before you know it people are starting to disperse. You see him hesitate, bite the inside of his lip. You know you shouldn’t do what you’re about to do. You should just say your goodbyes and move along. Move on from him. But you still love him, and part of you wants - no, _needs_ \- to know if he feels the same.

“I need to go to my hotel room. Wanna catch up more there? We won’t have to deal with-” you make a vague gesture to everyone around you, grinning- “all of them.”

_My God this reminds me of when we were young_

~

_It’s hard to admit that everything just takes me back_

He had nearly allowed his jaw to drop when you asked if he wanted to continue talking.

Of all the things he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. That doesn’t mean he isn’t glad, though. His excuses designed to let him escape early suddenly became useless. He wanted to spend more time with you. He wanted to talk to you, to see you, to listen to you. He wanted… you. Everything came back to you. Everything he did, saw, experienced. All of it either reminded him of you or made him think of the times you shared. And if it didn’t, he usually ended up thinking of you anyway.

_To when you were there, to when you were there_

He had only pondered for a moment before telling you yes, before agreeing to go talk more. He hadn’t needed to think about it. Not truly. He would have abandoned any plans he might have had just to talk with you more.

The mistake people often made with him - a mistake you had never made - was their assumption that he was indifferent. Apathetic. That he didn’t care. They saw his snark and standoffish attitude, his distaste for socializing, and they assumed he didn’t care one bit. Daichi had never made this assumption - the former Karasuno captain had seen him play, way back when. He knew he cared, if only about volleyball.

_And a part of me keeps holding on just in case it hasn’t gone_

The truth was, he thought as he followed you toward your hotel room, that he cared too much. About his family, about his work, his team, about everyone. Especially about you. It did not matter where he was, how embarrassed he might get, what he was doing. He always made time to show you how much he cared, so that when some lame ass motherfucker teased you for being with someone who was snarky and cold and didn’t care, you knew it was the opposite. He had nothing to prove to anyone but you. As long as you had known he cared, the others could think what they liked.

He had wondered, after the two of you broke it off, if his attitude had been part of the problem. If he hadn’t told you enough how much he cared. He knew everything he said sounded calculated and snarky. He knew he was a little shit. Had part of the reason the two of you split been because he simply hadn’t tried hard enough? Hadn’t shown how much he didn’t want to lose you?

Seeing you at this party had reignited something in him, something he thought had burned out years ago. No, it hadn’t gone out. It had simply bided it’s time, waited quietly in the shadows of his mind and heart. It waited there, next to all his doubts and fears. It wrestled with his uncertainty.

_I guess I still care,_

He knew he was acting different from how everyone was used to seeing him, that everyone would be wondering what kind of alien replaced him while they weren’t looking, but he didn’t care. He was with you, and that was all that mattered.

He followed you into your hotel room, plopping down into a chair and letting his eyes follow you as you moved around the room. You made idle small talk as you moved around the room, cleaning up various things and putting away books and papers. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, it always had. The balance between noise and silence had always been perfect between the two of you, the natural swoops and dives of conversation had never been an awkward point despite his own conversational shortcomings. It was filled with fond “idiots” and stupid little jibes that neither of you took seriously. But that was just how the two of you were. When your conversation had one of it’s natural lulls, the two of you were content to enjoy the silence. Besides, any excuse he has to watch you simply be, he would take.

_Do you still care?_

It was because he was observing you so closely that he noticed the moment when you took a deep breath, preparing to break the silence. He just wasn’t expecting the words that came out of your mouth.

“Do you ever wonder why we split?” His heart practically stopped for a moment, then bear faster. So fast that, in the silence, he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Of course he’d wondered. He’d tossed and turned and lost sleep. He’d worried and overthought and tried to forget. He can feel his hands shaking as he opens his mouth.

“We had different dreams, different ambitions-”

“Yeah but…. did we really?” You cut across him, eyes distant. “Were they so different? Or were we just afraid?” Your voice is so quiet he can barely hear, but your words are a scream in an empty room. A bullhorn in an echo-y hallway. A slap in the face. “Were we just afraid,” you repeat, your voice getting louder and your words getting faster, “of what we had? Of how we felt? Were we just terrified of the feelings, of the change that would come with committing fully and wholly? Were we so afraid,” your voice gets quiet once more and he’s not sure it matters, his head is spinning with the weight that comes with acknowledging the truth, “that we ripped apart something beautiful, something that shouldn’t have broken?”

Even as you say the words, he knows they’re the truth. It was the truth he’d refused to believe, refused to consider. But he knew you were right.

“Y/N-”

“What would have happened if we’d just tried more?” You’re looking at him now, eyes seeming to bore into his soul. “If we hadn’t been afraid?”

_It was just like a movie_

He took a breath, collected his thoughts, drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the chair.

“I don’t know,” he admits, pushing himself out of the chair, moving close to you. He sits down next to you, brushes a lock of hair from your face. He hears your breath hitch, but doesn’t break eye contact. “I’m not sure about anything from that time.”

“What are you sure of?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, and your eyes flutter as he cups your cheek.

_You._

“My winning personality.” You snort, but the sound is soft, incredulous. “You,” he says, breathing the word out. “I have always been sure of you.”

_It was just like a song_

You search his face, eyes flitting across his features. He wonders if you can hear his heartbeat.

“What about me?” He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, presses his forehead to yours. A sigh escapes you, soft and content.

“I’m sure that you’re the one for me,” he whispers, “I’m sure that you’re perfect. I’m sure that I never should have let you walk out of my life. I’m sure that your laugh is- is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.” Words are spilling from his mouth, tumbling off his tongue and slipping between his teeth. It’s the most honest, most affectionate, he’s ever been. “I’m sure that when I look at you, even after all these years, my heart still trips over itself when I see you. I’m sure that I-” he cuts himself off. Takes yet another deep breath. Slides his hand to the base of your neck, tangling his fingers in your hair. He opens his eyes as he says it, the last piece of surety he has, meeting your eyes.

“I’m sure that I still love you.”

_My God this reminds me_

He watches for your reaction, waiting. You had allowed him to get this far, to say this much. Now he could only hope that you returned his feelings. If you didn’t, well, he’d find a way to get over you. He’d have to. He’d walk away and never look back.

He watches as you close your eyes, feels you trembling slightly under his touch. And he waits. It was what he was best at - being patient, understanding the right moment, waiting for the right responses - he caught himself. He was comparing love to volleyball now. He resists the urge to scoff at himself. That would definitely not help right now.

He returns his attention to focusing on you, and finds you looking at him. His eyes lock with yours as you take a shuddering breath.

“I love you, too, Kei.” His features break out in a grin. He’s grinning like the biggest idiot on the planet, and he couldn’t care less. You smile, a blush creeping up to your ears. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

“Idiot,” he says fondly, pressing his lips to yours. Stars explode in his head. Galaxies of feelings rush through him, and a shock of goosebumps run down his spine. Yes, he definitely missed this. You pull away slightly, grinning wickedly.

“Dumbass.”

“Moron.”

“Snarky bitch.”

“Love,” he says, kissing you once more, murmuring the rest against your lips, “I’m so glad to have you back.”

_Of when we were young_


End file.
